


Love Bribe Cartel

by Judithan



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Crossdressing, Dubious Morality, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Extortion, Forced Crossdressing, M/M, Mafia AU, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judithan/pseuds/Judithan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pumpkin wanted new equipment, Spyke doesn't give his services for cheap. When Pumpkin tries to run off without paying, Spyke demands payment, but perhaps they can make a deal? After all, as someone who's running one of the biggest smuggling operations in Inkopolis, someone's bound to come for Spyke's head.</p><p>Two birds, one stone: Pumpkin gets to keep his gear, Spyke gets a personal bodyguard.</p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Deal

Spyke drove a hard bargain. It wasn’t just negotiations that were tough - he was tough. Hard-headed, cold as steel, and even merciless; there was no worming my way out of this mess. As it would be, two tops and a gun was more than enough stolen goods to grab Spyke’s attention: it was enough to make him give chase at top speed.

My neck was still sore from where he slammed me to the ground.

“Y’know, Love,” the usually friendly and endearing word comes out like hot venom. It feels like an electric current running down my spine as it registers in my brain. “I was going to give you a nice little discount on that number-” he motions to the E-Liter 3k just behind him in the little stowaway alley he calls home. “But since you decided to be a little brat I think I’ll have to decline that offer.”

“Instead,” he stops, looks at me, my ink turns to ice and I honestly think death would be a friendlier alternative to what he looks like he’s planning. “I think I’m gonna have to strike up another deal with you.” I gulp so loud he can hear it - he says nothing, but the twitch of a grin on his face means he has to have heard it. There are some passing voices near the alley that catch Spyke’s attention, but he never turns away from me - eyes only looking away for a fraction of a second.

“Work for me, Pumpkin.” My lips twitch, panic making me break out in a cold sweat. Spyke never uses first names - just pet names. Part of me wants to just melt into a squid and try to run, but I know exactly how badly that's gonna end.

“W-what do you want from me?” Back slouching a bit, he relaxes -content with how he's physically and metaphorically back me into a corner. Like this Spyke looks like a common predator.

“You will be my shield. I don't get this equipment cheap, and sooner or later someone is going to come for my head.” He makes a gross slicing noise as he draws a line over his neck. “So how ‘bout it, Love?” It's almost sincere. I want to puke. “You can have your equipment, I get a bodyguard. Win-win is it not?”

I want to disagree. I want to run. But my ass is stuck to the dirty alley floor and my eyes and stuck staring at his terrifying, charming face. He really is a devil, huh? No wonder everyone kept telling me to stay away from him. Maybe next time I'll actually listen.

Oh well.

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short prologue, just to get the premise down. Will most likely do weekly updates, with the chapters being on the shorter side with 1-2k words. A lot of it is gonna be a 'figure it out as I go' deal.


	2. Business as Usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First visit to the supplier. Pumpkin hopes it's the last.

Business is slow as it always is, Spyke downs some sea snails over on his side of the alley. It’s disgusting really. The noise, the smell, when he offered me some I tried a bite of it and nearly vomited. I'm not a picky eater but it tastes like fish mixed with medicine.

Why do people like that junk so much?

“So -” he slurps up the side of the shell. “Splatfest is comin’ up. Were you plannin’ on playin’?” He doesn't sound like he has anything up his sleeves, but what's his angle? Why is he asking?

“I was gonna play a round or two probably. Being splatted hurts more than it did when I was younger.” He nods, eyes steady on me, unwavering. As much as I appreciate him not killing me on the spot as he could have easily done, he still gives me the fucking creeps. My body presses further into the wall, hoping to melt into it and disappear.

I just want my contract with him to be done and over with, but it’s barely even started.

“There’s gonna be a pick up in business, Doll.” The word rolls off his tongue clean and genuine and I feel a shiver of disgust go up my spine. I'm never gonna get used to it. “We’re gonna have to meet up with our provida’ soon. In fact, I have a meet up planned for later today. You’re comin’ with.” His accent is thick, words becoming soft. When Spyke makes up his mind there is no arguing. What he says is Law. The irony nearly makes me let out a chuckle but I don't.

“Who is the provider?”

“‘Who’ shouldn't be your concern. It's where.” He stands, body lurching forward a bit. Motioning for me to follow, he heads out to the plaza. Inkling boys, girls, and jellies mingle about, word of splatfest is buzzing in the air. Spyke doesn't pay anyone any mind, choosing instead to head to a manhole right next to the battle tower. The cover is heavy and requires both of our efforts to move but once it's off we slip into it wordlessly.

“The octolings aren't known to be kind to inklings, as I'm sure you know.” I confirm this. “Do not speak unless spoken to, do not draw unless threatened. Do you understand?”

“Yeah…” What a bunch of bullshit.

We continue down the manhole for a while longer, eventually coming to a wide opening. There are traveling ports everywhere, seeming to be scattered at random. Spyke doesn't pay them any mind and makes a beeline for a far port.

“My contact will be in here. The only thing I ask is - well,” he trails off, face turning a deep purple. “Jus’ don't laugh.”

In a cloud of black ink he transforms into his urchin form, a spiky ball with a single visible eye. Honestly, I don't know what I expected, but it sure is cute. Spyke would easily skin me alive if he knew I thought that.

Without another word we both head into the port.

When we arrive it's a much different world than I expected. The sky looks cracked, as though looking into another world altogether. Everything is bright purples and teals, the world is dark.

He transforms back into his usual form the second we arrive and huffs and puffs until his clothing is brushed down nice and proper. I never really cared much over what I looked like in my squid form - just a bright orange squid, really.

“Spyke, you’re here early.” An octoling appears out of practically thin air. Having never seen one in real like, I’m a bit startled to be honest. Their hair is a bright red, eyes covered with strange goggles, outfit resembling strange armor. They’re a sight to behold, that’s for sure.

“As are you, it would seem.” He quips back, a humorless smile on his face. Nothing about him reads of his usual charisma and charm, but that could all be an act - or this could be a facade of strength. Who knows? “I presume you have the items I requested.” Looking down, the duffel bag jam packed would provide the answer.

“Yeah, you got my money?”

Seemingly out of nowhere Spyke produces a bag packed full of coins. There’s a quick exchange between the two, nothing out of the ordinary - save for a lone sniper that I notice out of the corner of my eye atop a distant building. It would be cause for alarm if it wasn’t fair; if Spyke gets to bring his bodyguard (and boy did that make my skin crawl) then his provider should be allowed to bring their own. That didn’t mean I had to like it, though.

They said a few more words to each other, business as it was, and we departed back to where we came from.

When we finally got back to the alley, there were a couple younger Inklings hanging around, waiting for Spyke. He greeted them as he always does ‘love’ this and ‘darling’ that. It was a bit nauseating knowing where we had just came from.

I don’t like any of this one bit. I’ve got a bad, bad feeling about it.

Regardless of what my conscious says I sit by and watch Inkling after Inkling picking up their orders, smiles and eyes lighting up when they finally get the equipment in their hands. Spyke counts the money, coins clinking together and he can only grin in response. A haze covers his face as night falls over the alleyway.

“Y’know what this is, right?” He gestures to the money, rattling it in his hands. Even though he’s looking right at me, it feels more like he’s just staring through me, as though he’s just talking to himself. “This is blood money.”


	3. Predator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scouting missions are never fun, nor is selling overpriced equipment to dull kids. Spyke doesn't mind it one bit, though. That's how he makes his bank, after all. To Pumpkin, it only feels wrong.

“You understand what you need to do, right?” When it came to any serious business, Spyke was no longer a man of slurring and thick accents. It only came out in his lazy drawls, but here he spoke crisp and clean. He was anything but clean though. But it could be partially because he was speaking to me through a transceiver that was connected to my headset. The headphones themselves had pretty good slots, thanks to the shady urchin.

“Play a couple rounds, find a low level target and get them to pay you a visit.” I emphasized ‘pay’, as he really only wanted to swindle some newbs out of their splatfest money. Spyke really was the devil in urchin’s clothing. It was hard keeping my voice at only just above a whisper so he could still hear while not allowing anyone else in the lobby access to our conversation.

“You're a good listener, Love.” If I wasn't half a mile away and just about to start my match I would have socked him.

Floating through the connection ports was nothing but disorienting and I couldn't have been happier when the match was set. Behind me my three teammates cheered at each other, excited for the match to start. I couldn't help but feel annoyed and even disgusted at myself. This wasn't what turf wars was about.

The buzzer rang and I made my way through Flounder Heights to the highest point available, switching back and forth from bombs to rifle as quickly as I could. It was a fairly routine level, but the pressure was on so high I couldn't help but feel anxious, what with Spyke holding me responsible.

Keeping an eye out on my teammates - as well as the ‘enemies’ - I was quick to evade each and every attempt to splat me; krakens and inkzookas were practically nothing to evade. At least, compared to when I was younger and less observant, less competent.

Throughout the match I manage to notice a particular struggling inkling on my team, a low level as it would be. They kept getting splatted over and over and I can see the frustration and defeat coming through on their face.

There wasn't a chance in hell we were winning this match.

The three minutes didn't last long -it never does- and as we went back to the lobby I practically barreled through the crowd trying to find the kid. When I did find him he practically screamed in fear when I tapped him on the shoulder.

“Woah, woah hey-” There was a splashomatic in my face, but was quickly lowered back down. If I didn't know being splatted wouldn't kill me I might have felt my life flash before my eyes.

“Oh gosh I'm so sorry you just startled me.” He was sheepish, eyes wide but looking anywhere but my face. Poor kid - just got crushed last round and probably just wanting to get home.

I needed to give him one quick detour, though.

“I noticed you were a pretty good shot, but couldn't help but notice your equipment…” I trailed off, voice mimicking true care and compassion. What a load of bullshit. I could hear Spyke snickering over the headset, unable to stop himself. I wanted to smack him and his stupid grin, but I had a job to get done. “It looks like you've got a lot of equipment that isn't doing you any good. There's a guy I know who can hook you up.”

“R-really?” Hook, line, and sinker. He takes the bait like a textbook gullible idiot and we head off to see Spyke.

He looks so damn pleased with himself. Offers the kid a deal or two on ‘special’ tops, though he initially jacked the charge so high it doesn't even matter. The kid buys into it anyway and drops at least five digits on this junk, promising to tell his friends and to spread the word. Spyke butters him up with the ‘Love’ deal, and the kid just blushes, thanks me, and runs off one shirt and one headpiece heavier.

What a scam.

“You're a real bastard y'know that, right?” I saw offhandedly, focusing more on reorganizing my bag than on the person I'm speaking to.

Before I can even register what's happening, Spyke has me slammed to the wall. His grip on my shoulder is hot, heavy, and hurts more than any ink strike I've had the misfortune of experiencing. Even in the dark his lone eye pierces into me, bright and dangerous. All of my instincts are screaming at me to run.

I don't. I sit there and stare back.

“You don't want to know how much of a bastard I can be.” His voice is deeper and more dangerous than I've ever heard it, but there's something primal and dangerous about it that … Excites me? My head is a hazy mess and I can feel my face heating up from this prolonged contact and closeness. His eyes are so bright and piercing, to the point that he almost looks like a predator. I keep stealing glances down to his lips, though I don't dare make the first move.

“Maybe I do…” It's obviously more afraid than playful, and Spyke gives me a knowing chuckle in response. His face is inches from mine, breath hot against my neck. My brain is going home haywire, sensors being overloaded with stimuli. I'm almost surprised by how willing I am to go along with this - whatever ‘this’ is.

And just as I think he’s about to pounce, he lets up entirely. He just stands up, dusts his pants off, and casually strolls back to his usual spot.

“Maybe some other time, Love.” There's a playful chuckle somewhere in there but I can barely understand anything anymore.

He's fucking toying with me and I'm enough of an idiot to fall for it. Of course he would consider this kind of thing to be a game.

“Now if you would be so kind, help me finish packin’ up.”

When we’re done packing everything up, he not so gently grabs me by the shoulder, pulling me in close.

“Tomorrow we’re restockin’. But it won't be a cakewalk like it was last time.” The expression he has is somewhere between worried and stiff, like someone about to go to war. I can feel his grip getting a little harder the longer he pauses, to the point that it's crushingly desperate. “Make sure you’re ready. We leave at noon.”

He leaves without another word, disappearing soundlessly into the darkness of night. Part of me wants to give chase and tell him I quit. The more sensible part of me knows that I won't do it and even if I did he wouldn't let me.

“Goddamnit, Spyke.”

I walk home irritated and aroused.


	4. Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This trip to Spyke's supplier goes about as well as can be expected - which is to say it doesn't. It's messy, annoying, and this new guy's a seriously arrogant prick.

The first time we went to restock, it was fine and dandy. Show up, pay, get our shit, and leave. That's it - nothing more, nothing less.

This trip was turning into a nightmare faster than an all-sniper match of turf war.

When we first arrived, there wasn't anyone waiting for us so much as there were octolings ambushing us. The previous leader had been taken down by some secret agent, and they took it as an all-out offense against octolings.

At least Spyke was smart enough to bring a bodyguard with him, even if it was an inkling. That cocky grin never left his face for a second though. Something was up with him. He had something up his sleeve. But what?

“Pumpkin,” it was hardly louder than a whisper, and while surrounded by at least a dozen octolings all ready and willing to shot, Spyke could only be considered a madman for even attempting to formulate a plan in plain sight. “When I give the order we’re going to run back. You need to cover me. I trust you can take out a measly dozen of these things?”

He doesn't wait for a response.

“Now!” He leapt backwards, giving me room to slide in between him and the startled octolings. It didn't take long for them to come to attention and take aim. A bomb overhand and a careless shot of the e-liter 3k took care of two of them without hardly a fuss. It was after the initial shock when the dodging came into play. 

Three on the left, four on the right, all of them aiming at me, yet none of them even coming close as I practically dance my way under and around their shots.

Were they even trying?!

Without a single moment to wait we slip back into the port and make our way back through the tunnels until we find the manhole. Spyke is frantically running and I’m only able to keep up by sheer determination and willpower - either that or all the turf war stuff when I was a kid really did help with my stamina. It’s only when we’re back in inkoplis’ plaza that we can finally take a breath. I never thought I would ever be relieved to see this crowded mess, but nothing makes me happier than the sight of it. Spyke has a similar reaction, but is still on high-alert. I don’t make anything of it. We head back to the alleyway, Spyke trailing two steps behind.

“Y’know, Spyke, I didn’t think I would be able to keep up with y-” Without warning he yanks me back by the arm. I’m about to ask him who the fuck he thinks he is to lay a hand on me, but before I can I notice his expression, like a primal animal, eye wide and staring straight ahead. I slowly follow his line of sight. A figure stands perched in his usual corner, arms drawn to their chest. Spyke’s face is nothing short of aggressive, expression wild, body tense.

“Don’t get any closer, Pumpkin.” Spyke’s voice is so low I can barely hear it, but the tension and fear in it is hardly a challenge to pick up.

“Spyke. So nice of you to show up.” The figure emerges from the shadow, and they’re appearance is only slightly shocking. Bright teal tentacles pulled back into a long ponytail, bright yellow eyes piercing. Most notable is the scars covering their face -eyebrow, nose, lip, their face is a mess of healed wounds. “Though this is your hangout, so it’s only natural that you would return eventually. All I had to do was wait, but even that didn’t take long.” This fucker has the audacity to actually let out half of a chuckle at this. If it wasn’t for the vice grip that Spyke had on my arm I would have pounced.

“How perceptive of you.” Spyke takes this chance to walk a few steps ahead, pushing me back a step to put more distance between myself and the instigator.

How ironic, I’m supposed to be protecting him.

“Come now, do you really think I’ve come to fight?” The inkling saunters around, twirling his hand around. “I’m not that eager to start this mess. I just have a message from the big boss.” He stops dead in his tracks a hair’s breath from Spyke’s face, entire body reeking of aggression. It makes my stomach twist up. Still as a statue, Spyke doesn’t even flinch when the man gets into his face, sneering right back at him.

“Step off the octovalley. That’s not your turf and you know it. You’ve been getting away with it for so long cuz we couldn’t find the leak, but now,” He draws a line across his neck with his thumb, mouth making a horrible gashing sound. “That’s been taken care of, and you’re without a leg to stand on. Don’t make me come back, because it won’t be pleasant.”

With that same smirk plastered across his face, he steps off, beginning to walk out of the alley.

“Not that it really matters but - who are you.” The man stops at Spyke’s inquiry, not even bothering to turn to answer him.

“Vandal. Pray we never meet again.” And just like that he’s lost into the crowd and Spyke visibly relaxes. Though it’s obvious he’s still rattled.

“Spyke…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Everything about this seems so weird and wrong. I just want to go home, but something keeps me here, something about this stupid idiot is making me care about him. I can’t fucking believe it.

“Why did you try to protect me? Aren’t I supposed to be your bodyguard?”

“Haaa…” Walking over to his usual corner, he practically slides down the wall, everything about him screaming defeat. It’s not hard to understand where he’s coming from though. Something like a chuckle leaves his mouth, but it’s humorless and hollow. “Why indeed…?”

After that, he lets me leave for the day. I hang around for a few extra minutes, just watching him. When he finally seems fine, I head out.

A feeling of dread follows me home.


	5. Repression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pumpkin visits Spyke's home - well, apartment. The visit doesn't go according to plan, but what plan is there, really?

Spyke’s home is nothing more than a simple apartment. One room, one bathroom, a bed, a couch, and a metric ton of miscellaneous equipment littering every inch of his apartment that he can fit it in. It smells like oil, gunpowder, and ink. There isn't a trace of real livelihood, honestly. I was genuinely surprised when he invited me over, and even with me trying to find every reason not to come I still ended up here.

“What'd you want, anyway?” I ask, sitting down on the couch. It's old, cloth, and seems to try and swallow me whole.

“I figured we could just talk. Tell each other about stuff. After all, we don't exactly know much about each other, Love.” That stupid pet name again. He sits himself down on the couch, so close to me our legs are almost touching. I try to move my leg away, uncomfortable, and he notices, only pushing more. What a jackass.

I try and play nice, however, and just stay put. 

“What is there to say? I live by myself, eat alone, live alone. I don't have much of a family anymore. Just my mom, but we don't talk.” I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to talk about this, but something, something was keeping me here and keeping me talking. Spyke gave me a sympathetic look, as though he understood. Like hell he would.

“I don't have a family either.” Or maybe he did understand. Whatever. “I left them behind in my hometown, which they were fine with. Someone like me wasn't exactly welcome into the family.” What did he mean? He caught onto my confused look, gave a heavy sigh and continued his story.

“You inklings, you can change gender at will and no one will care. Us urchin's on the other hand… We can, but not without the price of our status.” He just patted his chest, indicating what had once been there. It was only now that I realized just what he meant, and I couldn't help but feel a flurry of rage.

“They disowned you because of what you wanted to do with your body?!” I grabbed his shoulder, outrage blinding my senses.

The only response I got was a somber look to the floor, eyes tired and face emotionless. He had been through all this again and again. He just wanted to forget and move on. All I could do was let my anger subside and manage to squeeze out a genuine comment.

“Even if they treat you like less of a person, I won't.”

That got Spyke’s attention; eyes snapped up to meet mine, mouth stammering open and close over and over, his face somewhere between flustered and shocked.

“I know I'm kinda hard to deal with, but if we're in this shit together I'm not gonna let anyone treat you like that. Don't forget that.” My hand on his shoulder slipped down to rest on the couch, covering Spyke’s trembling, clenched fist. A quick smile flashed at me and I knew he understood. We’re allies, at least until my debt is paid off.

Looking into Spyke’s visible eye, I couldn't help but feel something in my stomach. It felt like an inkstrike going off, a torrent of nausea and excitement filling me. What was this feeling? I just pushed it down as well as I could.

He stood up suddenly, the action almost startling me.

“Wait here, I've got somethin’ for you.” And like that he got off the couch, walking over to the bedroom side of his cluttered apartment with masterful grace. Spyke rummaged around for a bit. After a long pause of silence, he exclaimed an excited ‘there’ and returned to the couch - the sudden noise actually scaring me.

“Close your eyes.” Oh no. He insisted once more. “It's a present, c'mon close em.” Finally I agreed and close them, sticking my hands out.

I felt a weight placed in my hands. Hard and rigid, there was a definite shape to it.

“Open your eyes, Love.” They were shoes, but not just any shoes, they were special. Three slot shoes with bomb sniffer and -holy shit- was that black fur trim on the inside? Truly they were made just for me, at least that's all I could think as I hastily slipped them on, finding the fit to be Perfect.

“This isn't some trick to make me stay is it?” Spyke could only whistle ‘innocently’ in response.

“Whatever could you be talking about I wonder?” I could've slugged him where he stood if I wasn't still obsessing over these incredible kicks. Who knows where he got this stuff, but it sure was incredible. “I just figured if you're going to be hanging around me this much you might as well dress nice.”

“You sayin I don't!?”

“Yes. Do you see how beat your old shoes are?” He had a point but I still wanted to hit him. “I mean, we did meet cuz you were tryin to steal from me.” Ashamed, I looked away. I was hoping he would've just left that be.

“Besides, you were nice enough to actually come over and hang out, it's the very least I could do.” He seemed to be so genuine and honest and it honestly just pissed me off.

“If this is the least then what's the most you could do, I wonder?” Sometimes testing the waters to get a reaction out of him wasn't the way to go. In fact, it was safe to say that toying with Spyke lead to disaster far more often than it lead to anything else. At least, this was true now, considering how in the fraction of a second he had me pinned to the back of the couch, hands heavy on the wall.

“Do you really wanna find out?” I gulped, he smiled that same predatory smile.

“A-on second thought I think I'm good.” And just like that, he lets off. His face returns to normal, if only for the smallest curl of a smile on his lips. Something about it makes my stomach twist up just like before, a feeling unlike I had felt with anyone else. Perhaps it was my gut just telling me to run, but my feet stayed firmly planted on his hardwood floor.

“What a shame.” He plopped down on the couch next to me, arms over the back of it. “Well, you should probably head home, get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow and I don't want you complaining about being tired.”

“Ugh piss off, we just had a failed mission.” I was already heading towards the door, though. It wasn't like I could worm my way out of a mission if Spyke said it was happening.

“Pumpkin,” he started, stopping me dead in my tracks. “You told me you don't speak to your mom anymore… Why is that?” It wasn't like he had clear mal-intent with his question, but it certainly wasn't something I was ready to talk about. At least, not yet.

“She forgot about me.” Was all I could manage. “I'm heading out.”

“Be safe.” I had to stop myself from slamming the door behind me. Where did he get off, butter me up, terrorize me, then act like he gave a shit?! I didn't want to think about any of that.

When I finally got home I pretended like nothing had changed and that I hadn't remembered anything. As if I couldn't still feel the hands around my neck, the water covering my head. I went to one of my kitchen cabinets, downing a quick shot of vodka. It burns, but it hurts less than the memory of her.

It wasn't good to dwell on things you couldn't change, after all.


	6. Dressed Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *It's Always Sunny Title Card* the gang earns the explicit rating.

“This isn’t what we fucking agreed on, Spyke!” I scream at him as loud as I can without gaining the attention of the client he was keeping wait. He rolls his eye, uncaring but still at least willing to listen -which is good. If I can get him to listen I can get him to bargain. “You said I would be your bodyguard and only that. Making me run scouting missions was bad enough, now you’re trying t-to make me do this?!” I shove the article of clothing into his face that he had just handed me. There was no way in even ice-cold hell that I would ever consider putting this on, especially not in front of strangers!

“What, I thought you said you like girls? Or was it boys? Gosh, I don't remember.” Spyke teased. I was so close to just smacking him, but that would’ve only ended badly.

“Gah, fuck off! Just cuz I like girls doesn't mean I wanna fucking dress like one!” Normally I didn't care too much about how I dressed, but I drew the line at skimpy dresses that were clearly not made for public wear. Where did he get this kind of shit?!

It was already bad enough that he had managed to talk me into coming out with him to this - this whorehouse! No way in hell was I putting this on!

“Ah, there you went Spyke! Your girl ready?” It was an Octarian from earlier, the one who ran the bar in this joint, and my face couldn't feel any hotter if it tried. Spyke had told them I was a girl?! What the fuck?!

Taking one last look at Spyke, I could see the desperation and fear building on his face.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“Now now, I believe we’re even -” he gestured down to the shoes he had given to me only yesterday.

I could have killed him where he stood.

“You jackass piece of shit you gave me those, and I don't owe you shit for them!” Vulgarities flew out of my mouth faster than my brain could process what I was saying. If anything, the speed and precision of my insults impressed me more than anything. Spyke was anything but amused.

“I still own you, Love.” The ruthlessness that I first heard in his voice was back. Not surprising, though. “Now change, we have a deal to make. He’s looser around a pretty girl, which I’ve no doubt you’ll make.”

I didn't want to, but I striped down, nothing but boxers on.

“You're not gonna make a very convincing girl when you've got something like that poking out.” Spyke commented, his voice low, masculine, and his eyes going between my eyes and -oh. That. When did I get a hard-on? Oh god.

I pulled the dress on over my head regardless, praying for the skin-tight fabric to keep it down. It didn't.

“What, does cross-dressing do it for you?” Spyke snorted, eyes watching my form carefully. My face lit up even more, sweat beading up on the back of my neck. I had never been in a situation like this and I couldn't just will it away. “Just transform into a girl, it’ll go away on its own won't it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll just do that.” I melted down into my squid form, orange ink getting splashed on the floor. Woops.

When I emerged from it, I already started to feel the slight differences. The dress fit a bit differently - tighter on the hips and bust, and where my erection was there was only the smooth bump of my new parts. I hated turning into a girl, it always felt weird. Whatever. It wouldn't be for forever.

At least, not literally. Lord did it feel like an eternity, though.

When we finally got out and into the brothel I couldn't help but feel so entirely out of place while looking like I belonged. Plenty of female inklings and octolings walked around in similar outfits, ass almost hanging out for most of them. It made me feel sick.

Sitting down at the bar, the octarian who had been rushing us was waiting, eyes making quick work over me. I wanted to take a swing at him, but opted for just scooting a bit closer to Spyke in the booth. The octarian was a rather large man, red hair pulled back slick, eyes a bright amber. His presence was scarier than his appearance, considering he was only a few inches taller than Spyke, but goddamn did the man look like he could and would kill.

“Your girls cute, but I doubt you're here for that kind of business.” Spyke casually agrees and I try my hardest to keep my focus on the glass of water in front of me. “What is it? What'd you need?”

“Trade routes. Vandal shut down my last route and I'm not going to sit around doing nothing. You open me up a trade route and I'll make sure it stays open for your clientele as well.” What did he mean? Clientele? As in the prostitutes that were here? I couldn't help but feel disgusted at the mere thought that they could casually talk about trafficking like this as if it were nothing.

“Sure,” his accent is thick and I can't help but feel intimidated as he stares me down. “That won't be a problem, but I would like to make a proposition for you. Loosen up tension, if you would.” He licks his lips like a hungry predator about to pounce.

“One round with your girl in the back, and we got a deal.”

Panic rushed through my veins like black ink. He couldn't be serious, could he?! I frantically looked from Spyke back to the man back to Spyke.

“I don't allow her to leave my side, untrained pets tend to stray.” Spyke answered, cool and collected as ever. What was he talking about?! There was no way he could mean any of that! This all had to be some kind of weird joke right? 

...Right...?

“Perhaps she needs a proper training session.”

“If you're trying to train my property for me, I'm going to have to decline your offer. I am the only one who will be touching her, at least until she is ready.” Spyke finally sent a glance to me, if only just to tell me not to worry. Even with this nonsense, that little tug on my senses pulling me back, my breathing calming down.

“Money it is then. And a lot of it. How does 1mil sound?” He sounded angry, loathsome even.

“Considering you charged that much for my last route -which just went up in flames, I might add- I'm going to have to lower my offer to 800 grand. Don’t think I can’t take my business elsewhere.” The tension was so stiff you could cut it with a knife. I returned to staring at the water glass, sipping out of it in small intervals.

“Deal.”

No paperwork signed, but Spyke handed over the cash he promised, and in return was given a cell phone - disposable, as predictable as they get. Spyke only smirked in response, pocketing it.

“Give them a call tomorrow. They go by Ace. You won't be disappointed.”

We left without another word, walking back in silence. It was only when we finally arrived back in the usual alleyway that I remembered something important.

“I'm gonna change back into a boy.” I announced, melting down, reforming myself back into my usual body. It felt so much better. It felt like being in my own body again.

From beside me I heard Spyke laughing to himself.

“What.”

“Well, you may have changed, but your situation certainly hasn't.” Spike manages to get out through throaty laughs. Looking down, I see what he means. The dress had the same bump in it from earlier, from me trying and failing to hide my boner. “Guess being mistreated is another thing that gets you going, huh?”

He gave it a slow drag, his touch ghosting over sensitive skin. No matter how hard I wanted to I can't hide the moan that slips out of me.

“Yknow, you did a fantastic job back there, so how bout you pull that dress up and I'll give you a little treat that'll blow your mind.” I didn't exactly want it, but the primal urges in the back of my mind needed it. Anything that he might do would be better than nothing. At least that's what I told myself as I let him push me against the alley wall, dress pushed up to my stomach.

Spyke’s mouth didn't just run itself, it was practically its own entity. Every movement of his tongue made me hotter and hotter, breath coming out in pants, hands gripping hard into his raven hair.

“Spyke - fuck…!” I don't know who taught Spyke or why, but the way he deepthroated was nothing short of heavenly. His mouth made short work of me and before I could warn him I was already finishing in his mouth. It was a white hot orgasm and he lapped it up, eyes watching my expression with excitement and enjoyment. He was

Not only did he swallow all of it, he even went back to clean me up with his mouth.

“There, all done. Oh, and here are you clothes back. Suppose you'd be wantin those, no?” I snatch them out of his hands. If it wasn't for what just happened I might have been worried about changing in front of him but I just rip the dress off and shove my regular clothes on. It feels so much better o be back to normal. So much more… Dignified.

“Head home, get some rest. You're gonna need it for tomorrow.” I shoot him a confused look at this. “We’re going back to Octovalley, just a different location. I've heard of this Ace and he drives a hard bargain. Don't be surprised if we have to kill some people.”

My heart sinks into my stomach. He couldn't be serious, could he?

“We might need to infiltrate, is all. So get your sneaking shoes ready.” Fists tighten so hard I can feel my nails starting to pierce into the palm of my hand. This isn't right and he knows it. Not like I can do anything to stop him though.

“Hope you're not giving us a death sentence, Spyke.” I murmur as I finish gathering my stuff together, heading out. The plaza is empty so I don't have to hide myself coming out of the alleyway.

“Me too, Pumpkin. Me too.” Is the last thing I hear from him before he's too far away for his words to reach me.


	7. Bloodshed and Bullet Shells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go pay Vandal a visit. That's definitely a good idea. After all, no one's going to miss him.

When Spyke told me that he made ‘blood money’ I thought he was exaggerating. Splatting hurt but it wasn’t the end of the world, no matter if it felt like it. If you sat in another ink color for long enough you end up changing to that color, so differences in ink never really mattered that much. 

It’s when he puts a real gun in my hand that I feel the real weight of it. It’s no heavier than a splattershot. It’s not that different even; takes a special type of ammo but that’s about it. It feels heavier on the mind than the hand, if anything.

He hands it to me late at night, says we have to go make arrangements.

Everything about this feels so wrong, the smooth grip of the gun sliding between my fingers, the safety lock feeling like it has real importance for once.

Why did he have something like this, where did he even find it?

“Where are we going?” I hush from in front of him, our feet matching in tempo if only two paces apart from each other. There’s a long pause, but he continues looking dead ahead, guiding me silently to where we’re going through the pipelines under Inkopolis. Something about him looks different, it’s like he doesn’t want to respond, doesn’t want to tell me. For the first time, I start to genuinely doubt him. I nearly stop, slowing down for only a second but he sends me a terrifying glance that keeps my feet going. I don’t want this. I never wanted anything like this.

“We’ goin’ ta pay that bastard a visit.” His accent is thick, rushed, slopey, his voice so low it’s all bass. It sends a chill down my spine, and I instinctively grip the gun tighter. That’s all it is - a gun, a pistol.

“Who?” I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know, I want to go home, stop this!

“Vandal.” Without a second thought, I spin around, face to face with him. His lone eye pierces into me, but I can’t stop myself. I can’t do this.

“Are you crazy?!” I spit out, hands shaking.

“You’re going to disobey me? After all this, you’re going ta’ turn and run, tail between ya’ legs?” He pushes himself right on top of me, back to the wall, fist slamming my gun-hand hard above my head. “I thought you wanted to protect me, Love.” His voice is sharp, cold, cruel. I want to cry, this isn’t what I ever wanted. “I thought you wanted to keep me out of danger, and y’know as well as I do - he won’t stay put! He’ll come again’n’again until he’s gotten me out of business, or even worse-” Rambling on and on, something about him seems desperate, afraid even.

“The only way to win is to get one step ahead. No one’ll miss a sad sap like him anyway.” There’s a laugh mixed in there, but it’s not about anything funny. Rationalization never really works, to be honest. He knows it as well as I do and let’s my arm down, a half of a crooked smile on his face.

“Someone’s probably thought the same about me, but who am I to care.” We both know he cares, but neither say anything. “Now, we get Vandal, meet up with Ace, get our shit, go home. That's the plan. Think you can manage?” I'm hesitant but eventually nod, a quiet affirmation leaving my lips.

“Good. Now let's go.”

We start walking again, I’m two paces in front, Spyke works to match my steps. Every few turns he’ll state to take one or another, working his way through the maze of pipes like he knows where he’s going. I don’t question it anymore and just march along, hand still fidgeting with the gun. It feels so strange, so wrong. I don’t know what to make of it anymore and just walk along, let my feet carry me.

“Here.” Spyke announces, stopping abruptly and pulling a ladder down with a short jump up. It screeches down, rust covering almost every inch of it.

I don’t move right away and Spyke gives me this look, something between annoyance and an apology. Begrudgingly, I latch the gun to the holster on my side and begin to scale the rusted old ladder. The grate overhead is heavy but pops up after a few solid pushes, sliding to the side with a horrible grinding noise. If it was stealth Spyke was going for, he certainly wasn’t going to get it this way.

Popping my head up from the hole, there’s no one in sight. Only a dingy alleyway empty of anything of value - trash and garbage bags line several of the walls. 

Spyke signals me to leave and I do, my body pressed to the wall as soon as I'm out in the open air. Even with being surrounded by trash it's certainly better than being stuck in the sewers. He joins me outside but stands lax in the middle of the alley, no fear.

“This way.” He motions, walking towards one end. Past the alley is an urban city similar to any other. Inklings, octolings, and several other species intermingled as though nothing mattered. It was certainly strange to see octolings without the battle armor and guns, but not necessarily a bad different. We walk along as though nothing out of the ordinary, as though not about to commit a crime most foul. Spyke takes a turn every few streetlights, consulting his phone constantly.

“Here.” A big apartment building towers in front of us. This is it. No turning back.

Spyke talks the ear off the security guard in the front of the building, something about a lost something-or-other, I don’t care enough to listen too close. When the guard is distracted looking in some files, Spyke tells me the number ‘1307’ and sends me on my way. My legs beg me to take the elevator but the cameras that I know are in there tell me to take the stairs, so I do. I've barely reached the second floor when my legs want to give way.

1 down, about a dozen to go.

I'm heaving by the time I reach the 13th floor. I want to die. I want to go home. My legs ache. My lungs burn. Spyke texts me to hurry my ass up and I can't help but remind him that's easier said than done. Regardless of the aching in my legs I pick my ass off the floor and make my way through the corridor until I find Vandal’s apartment.

I knock, no answer. I knock again, louder, and I can hear a groggy ‘come in’ from inside. Perfect. I open the door with my coat sleeve to avoid the possibility of fingerprints and invite myself in.

Inside of the apartment it's well lit, nicely furnished, and even more incredibly uninhabited, considering the thick layers of dust everywhere. A nice home, but with no one truly living there. On the couch lies a drunk Vandal, face flushed and plastered to the sofas leather seat. He's almost entirely naked, only a pair of boxers and an oversized t-shirt on.

“Why you home so laaaaate, honeyyy?” Vandal slurs, lazily getting up. Everything about this feels perverse, watching him slide around like the drunk mess he is. This isn't my moment to see, this   
isn't where I should be. I shouldn't be here, yet I take another step forward, hand tight on the pistol tucked in its holster.

Swallowing hard, I pull out the gun, twisting the silencer to the end of the barrel as if I know what I'm doing. My body tenses as I turn off the safety and cock it. I don't want to do this. He notices the noise and is starting to put the pieces together, looking up and over at me. His face is confused, twisted with shock, the scars on his face scrunching and pulling with his expression.

“Wait you're not-” Vandal slumps over the back of the couch, I can't help but feel remorse. Fucker never had a chance. His eyes widen.

“I'm sorry, but you've left us no choice. You've made your bed; sleep in it.” I aim. Vandal doesn't fight it, just curses, tears welling in his eyes.

My finger is on the trigger, his eyes are locked with mine, I pull it.

There is no noise from the gunshot, there is only a bullet through the head, blood and brains across the couch and table, and a bullet shell left twirling on the hardwood. Not caring about how hot it is I bend over, pick it up, pocket it, and leave. I would worry about residue and leaving the body and all that, but at the end of the day, he was a gang member, everyone will assume that with what he was involved in it was just a gang hit. Besides, just as Spyke said, no one would miss him.

‘Except for this ‘honey’ he was expecting...’ I push the thought away.

I jumped down each flight of stairs, not caring about the impact numbs my legs - no bones to break after all. With what just happened I want to get out as fast as I can, texting Spyke on the way down to meet me out back.

When I finally make it to the bottom floor I see myself out through the back exit, glad that there wasn't an alarm attached to it. Spyke is sitting on a crate, waiting for me.

“Let's get outta here.” I sputter out, trying to keep myself together.

“You okay?” He asks, grabbing my arm like it means something. I stop in a daze. The world spins under my feet and I brace myself against Spyke to stay standing.

“He was waiting for someone. He was drunk.” Tears are coming to my eyes, my hands shaking viciously against his shoulders. “This is wrong Spyke, this is-”

“You did what you had to. Sooner or later he would come after me. It was me or him, never forget that.” His tone is gentle, almost genuine, and he finishes it off by lifting my head and planting a soft kiss to my lips. Why…? Why would he do that? Doesn't he see how cruel he is?

My body feels weak, I can barely keep myself upright.

I let out a soft sob and kiss him back, trying to feel anything but fear and self-loathing. Anything would feel better than that, even this fucked up, half-assed attempt at romance or comfort. Who knows what goes on in his head. I try to forget those pleading yellow eyes with the thought of Spyke’s cracked lips and cruel thoughts, his lanky hands holding my shoulders with some kind of gentle, comforting squeeze. Needless to say, I don't find it all that comforting. Like everything else in this scenario, it just feels so incredibly wrong.

When he lets go of the kiss he wipes my face, tears coming off easily with the cloth of his poncho. I murmur an apology and try to put myself back together, running hands through my hair to try and mask calmness. It doesn't do much but at least it makes me feel better as a result. 

With one last look over my shoulder, we make our way to the end of the back-apartment alleyway.

“You know where we’re going now?” I ask, nervous as all hell.

“Of course. Ace will be waiting for us and I don't plan on being late.” He gives a half of a cheeky smile. “All according to plan, yknow?” Part of me groans at his attitude, the other is still a shaken mess. But I stiffen my upper lip, grip the gun at my side, and pretend everything's okay. No one will know anything, after all. At least, that’s the kind of attitude Spyke lets off as we walk out into the urban jungle.

I just want to be over with this. I need a shower.


	8. Ace of Spades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet Ace, their new provider. Things go alright, well not alright, but at least they get the goods and make it home. Pumpkin wouldn't necessarily agree it went well, but he's not entirely here right now.

My hands felt dirty, my eyes were red, I could barely even keep up with Spyke’s long strides. If I had bones in my body I’m sure they would have felt limp and lifeless. My entire body felt lifeless, cold, empty. At some point I felt a tug on my arm - Spyke’s hands on mine, pulling me along. It was like a line back to reality, but God knows I would've been content to just daze out into the void.

Corners, streets, lights, there's a flurry of sensory going on around me and I can only be content to be pulled along. His hands grasp onto mine so effortlessly, as though they're meant to be there. As though they mean something by being there. I want it to mean something, I want for this to feel right. I keep thinking about his lips on mine: soft and sweet, but hot and toxic like venom. I can't focus on anything real. Everything is too much at once, eventually I just close my eyes and let him guide me along.

Every now and then he slows to a stop, checking his phone, then picks right back up.

We end up somewhere, a walkway behind some stores, storage units blocking the horizon. It seems deserted, but if it was , why would we be here? He has to be here, somewhere, anywhere. This ‘Ace’ if that’s really his name. Her name. Whatever. Nothing matters except the slimy feeling on my hands that won’t come off, won’t come off, won’t… wash… off. I want to cry.

I settle myself against the wall, crouched down a bit so I can catch my breath.

“You don’t look too hot, Love.” I nod, he gives a heartless chuckle. A cold hand rests on my shoulder, rubbing it a bit but I don’t give it much mind.

Time passes, Spyke moves about. More time passes, he starts fidgeting with his phone.

The screech of tires on pavement catches my attention, a huge car barreling towards us. It heels to a stop, only a few feet away from us - for a second my life nearly flashes before my eyes. At least, that’s what I think happens. At this point I’m not sure what I feel anymore.

My attention is caught when the driver-side door slams open, a figure hopping down and rounding the car to meet and greet us. They’re kinda short, sunglasses and painted bandana covering their facial features. They turn to look at each of us carefully, long pink hair swaying back and forth as they do. Even with Spyke nearly a head and a half on them, as far as height goes, they’re still somehow intimidating. Maybe it’s just me being scared of everything right now, who knows.

“Name’s Ace. Spyke and Pumpkin I ‘ssume?” They sped through every word with a long drawl, their thick accent prevailing through. “Gotta be quick ‘bout this, I got things t’do and places t’be. I’m sure you know how that all is though.”

Something about them makes me nervous. Maybe it’s just my paranoia after the last provider. Maybe it’s just my imagination. Yeah, it’s gotta be. There’s no way this, this kid could be scaring me right now. It's just my imagination, I say this to myself on repeat.

“Yeah. I heard you were going to provide?” They nod over to their car. Spyke takes it as an invitation and rounds it, opening up the trunk. As promised, there’s three suitcases, each of which are stuffed with miscellaneous gear of varying brands and slots. “Good, good. How much we lookin’ at?”

“I’ll sell each case for 100k, no less.” They drove a hard bargain, but so did Spyke.

“How ‘bout 250k for all three, an’ you’ll get 1% of the profits I make?” Ace makes a face at the offer, thinking it over for a few long moments. All things considered, though, it didn’t take long before Spyke had the cases in hand and Ace was counting cash.

Every single inch of me was protesting this. I didn’t want to walk home as it was, let alone walk home with three jam-packed cases full of heavy equipment. Spyke apparently caught onto that, whether from me actually groaning or just the look on my face, I had no idea. It’s not like I really knew what my body was doing right now.

“Ey, would you mind giving us a lift to Inkopolis?”

“All the way out there? What’re you doing over here?” Ace’s face is unreadable but their body language is nothing short of confused and possibly even concerned. I pray to god curiosity isn’t a part of the mix, because there aren’t very many answers that can be given about ‘why’ for this mess.

“Sorry, but that’s not my place to tell you. Just some business is all.” He explains cool and calm. Spyke is always calm and collected when he needs to be, and a loose cannon the rest of the time, it would seem.

Ace takes the hint and just shrugs. “Fine, fine. You’re payin’ me good and proper, so I guess it’s the least I can do.” They head around to the driver’s side, motioning for us to hop in. “‘Sides, last buyer I got tried to run my outta business, so a happy buyer is a happy Ace.” They ramble on for a while longer before finally turning the car on. “Now you two hold on tight, a’right?” They shift gears, take off, and I can feel myself nearly pass out from how hard my head hits the headrest.

Crazy driving? That I could handle. Ace, however, well, they were just a goddamn maniac.

Every corner is a sharp turn and I'm about to ask to just walk home, considering I’d rather be home late and sore more than I would want to be dead on arrival. Spyke seems to share some kind of sentiment, considering his wife eyes and clenched fists. At the very least he still has that kind of humanity left in him. That's nice to know. Maybe a few hours too late to do any good, but still a nice thought.

By the time I know where we are, I'm nauseous as hell and want to die from the whiplash.

Ace practically kicks us out of the car once we make it to inkopolis, which I'm perfectly fine with. If I had to spend another second in that maniac’s car I’d rather shoot my own foot. Cases in hand, we make our way for Spyke’s apartment. It's a slow journey but we make it there nonetheless.

He’s the one carrying most of the burden, a case in each hand. I offer to help every few dozen feet but he declines each time, saying it's really no problem, but I can still see him struggling. I leave it be. If he wanted help he would ask for it.

The smell of gunpowder and the unmistakable scent that is Spyke greets us when we open the door. The gunpowder makes me nauseous. It makes me remember what I keep trying to push down. I don't want to remember, I don't want to remember!

It's only now that I notice the arms around me.

“Shhh. It's gonna be okay.” Spyke whispers, voice so gentle and nurturing I can only barely recognize it belonging to him. “It was a hard day, I know. You're stronger, though. I know you are.”

This again. He's so cruel.

After a while he lets go, we unpack a bit of the cases, but we’re both exhausted. I just want to go home. He keeps offering to walk me home but I don't want him knowing where I live.

My legs are sore but I still make the walk back, the echoing reassurances of Spyke stuck in my head as f they belong there. I don't try to fight it, I just unlock the door, undress on the walk to my room and flop myself on the bed. Sleep isn't likely to treat me well, but anything is better than being conscious for a second longer. My body aches and my brain is numb. Everything hurts.

My eyes are heavy and I drift away to sleep easily.

Life continues on as normal. No hiccups, no suspicion, only a sense of never ending dread and guilt trailing behind me like an unwanted shadow. The feeling will go away, he says. You’ll get over it eventually, he assures me.

My hands are still stained in blood and the nightmares are here to stay, it would seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/12 update  
> hey guys sorry for not writing a new chapter in a while. depression is kicking my ass and it never seems like people actually read my work so i'm kinda just not writing or posting anything. sorry, but i don't think i will be writing anymore for this or anything else for a while.


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